


In the Night

by 6feetbelow0



Category: Atnomen (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, LenaPOV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6feetbelow0/pseuds/6feetbelow0
Summary: He comes to her in the night.Written from Lena's POV.
Relationships: Lena/Rain
Comments: 9
Kudos: 34





	In the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Characters and Atnomen are the work of ilustrAriane. 
> 
> Do yourself a favor and check this Webtoon out. It's STUNNING.
> 
> Thank you VerdiWithin for beta reading!

He came to me.

The phenomenon after which I had named him sheeting, backlit by lightning racing through the summer sky. The air warm and wet, a portent of the inevitable. All claws and horns and fangs, he came to me. The flesh of his arm finally warm beneath my trailing touch with the flow of life through his veins, not the heat of the sun blessing hard granite with some passive mockery of life.

One lone claw, feather light and smooth as satin. He drew the back of it along my cheek. Gentle touch and hulking muscle. He is a study in inverses, if good and evil can even be said to be inverse of one another.

Facets.

They are facets of the same mechanism, glinting, exposing their meaning and manner only under circumstance that will nurture it. Circumstance first brought him to me. Desire keeps him. The desire flashing in his eyes as he meets my gaze. He sees me. Not the small, freckled heathen everyone else sees with motives of “fixing” me on their minds and in their covetous eyes. He sees my facets. Those which are shining and clear, lovely in the moonlight.

He names them.

Bravery.

Goodness.

Beauty.

He came to me. Bearing pictures he created of what he sees when he looks at me. Pictures that illustrate his regard for me. His care. His lust. I return the gesture with pictures of my own creation. Detailing my fears. My need. My love. 

His lust speaks to me this night. Broad hands drawing the sleeves of my dress down, exposing my breasts, and laying my heart bare. He must know it is his. He presses his lips to the flesh above the thundering thing. Warm. Pliant. Unlike the days I spend with him. I have kissed his lips of stone in moments of loneliness. Moments where my heart and mind overflowed with wishing for him. I poured the surplus into him with my lips.

I kiss him now. The need for connection rising high in my gut. His desire exposes his true face. The sight should be terrifying. Terrible. Macabre in the extreme. But I know better. He opens to me as I will open to him. Vulnerable. Needful. Fangs trail along my cheek while another set gently devours my lips. Every movement a benediction. Every breath a prayer.

Facets.

Lust.

Love.

Heartbreak.

All the facets of being with him rise to catch the light and I am gutted by their dark beauty. I always try to set the one out of my mind. The knowledge that sunlight steals love from me, locking him away, torturing us both. The sight of him in the light is breathtaking and heartbreaking. Knowing I cling only to his prison. In the dancing firelight from the hearth he is immaculate. Sharp, brutal planes of his face dripping with the safety of deep shadow. Night envelops him and I breathe again. I come to life along with him, a simultaneous rebirth fueled by need.

There are nights we speak. We talk of everything and anything until the last second possible. Hoarding each precious moment like a miser with a glittering jewel. There are nights we sit in silence. Soft scratching sounds of charcoal on parchment as we lay our love in images. Tonight, is not one of those nights.

He came to me.

With need in his eyes and hands, desire mutely on his lips. Those lips that press against my belly, seeking downward. Warm breath. Wet tongue. Warm and wet like the air is warm and wet. Like I will always be for him.

The safety of his arms gives rise to fire within us. My trembling hands rake through his long hair. Along his jaw. Down his neck. So small on his shoulders. I should feel small. He builds me up. He makes me feel triumphant as I lie beneath him.

I feel infinite.

Vast.

Unknowable to all save him.

Only him.

The slide of his tongue along my hip flays me open, my thighs falling wide in silent welcome, the core of me waiting, weeping for salvation. He saves me. With tongue and teeth and lips he saves me. I stare wide-eyed into the face of forever as I shudder apart and he holds me together. Inverses.

I am blessed.

I am damned.

I am need.

I am love.

He came to me.

He rises over me, shadowed and endless. An eternal night. He fills me now with the only part of him still evocative of stone. He presses into me gently, trembling with reverence. Desire held leashed on a delicate chain. He breathes into me; every press of his hips claims my soul.

Offering me salvation.

Absolution.

The heights of eternity.

I vine myself around him, limbs tethering him to me. A silent plea to the universe that he remain. Stay. A prayer that he dive deep into me and make my body as much his home as my heart already is. I feel the constriction of the chain of his want. His shoulders tighten, his head lolls back as harsh breath escapes between sharp teeth bared with desire.

In lust he is resplendent.

He gazes down at me and I lose the very ability to breathe.

In love he is immaculate.

Tears silently course from the corner of my eyes as my small fingers chase up to trace his lips. Again, I break. Dashed against the fortress of us. Shattering and splendid in the firelight. He howls his yearning.

Loss.

Desire.

Completion.

Facets.

And in that breathless moment, he came for me.


End file.
